


Totally Justified

by keeptogethernow



Series: Support Systems [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Life isn't fair, Normal Life, Parent-Child Relationship, School Sucks, Sibling Love, Tim and Damian getting along, they're a good team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14491809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeptogethernow/pseuds/keeptogethernow
Summary: It's been years since Bruce has had to pick a kid up from the principle's office, so he's a little surprised when both Tim and Damian manage to get in trouble at the same time. There'd better be a good reason...





	Totally Justified

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Minor physical assault by a teacher (nothing graphic or horrible)

When Bruce gets a phone call telling him he needs to come get his kids from school, he’s honestly surprised. Not because he’s never had to do that before, Dick and Jason had both had their fair share of fights, and Dick somehow managed to infuriate at least half of his teachers each year without trying. But he’s out of practice by now—he’d never really been responsible for dealing with Tim’s teachers, that was supposedly his parents’ job and then he’d been out of school for over a year after the time-travelling incident, and Damian had been homeschooled up until last month, when it had been decided that he could benefit from more interactions with kids around his age (and since he was old enough to be in the same school as Tim, there may have been this misguided hope that the two would keep each other in check).

He spends the entire drive trying not to overthink what has happened. Obviously, nobody is dead or seriously hurt or missing, Tim’s not sick, Damian has somehow managed to avoid any suspicious bruises this week, there’s no way either of them could be failing this early in the year, and he knows all the paperwork has been submitted because he had to fill it all out himself. Besides this, it’s a new school for both of them, so there’s no chance of anyone holding a grudge against his kids for past actions (and there’s such a high turnover that almost all the teachers who’d dealt with the older two boys would have been replaced anyway). So yeah, he can’t come up with anything.

It’s amazing how easily he navigates the halls, all muscle memory so he can check his phone to see if either boy had texted earlier with anything that might clue him in. There’s nothing, and he belatedly remembers that there’s a no-phones policy that would have prevented at least Damian from doing anything of the sort; he can’t really say the same for Tim, because Lord knows that if the kid wants to get away with something like that, there’s no way to really stop him or catch him without days of nonstop effort. He briefly wonders if that has anything to do with this, but decides that it probably doesn’t since, again, Damian is also in trouble.

Both boys have the decency to look at least a little sorry when he enters the reception area. The effect is ruined by the disheveled state they’re in, as well as the fact that there’s blood on both of them—not a lot, but enough for Bruce to notice—and that Damian has an ice-pack pressed against the back of his head.

He doesn’t have time to ask any questions before the receptionist is ushering him into the Headmaster’s office and then shutting the door as quickly as possible. As soon as Bruce makes eye contact with Headmaster Hammer, he can tell he’s going to have a headache. There’s also a very unhappy looking man already sitting in one of the chairs facing the Headmaster’s desk. He gives Bruce an almost poisonous look when he takes the empty seat. Bruce is totally willing to guess this must be the irate teacher or parent in question, and he’s sincerely (and desperately) hoping that the bandages on the man’s hand and the nasty bruising on his face have nothing to do with his sons.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Wayne,” the Headmaster says in a tone that makes it clear he’s not really thankful at all. “I was beginning to wonder whether we’d need to send someone to collect you.”

“What happened?” Bruce demands, cutting to the chase.

“Your brats attacked me,” the stranger interjects, looking furious. “The little one _stabbed me in the hand!”_

Sighing, the Headmaster motions for the man to stand down. “Yes, well. Mr. Ward here teaches the upperclassmen social studies courses and apparently has Timothy in one of the afternoon sections.”

“Okay…” Bruce frowns a little. “Um, I’m still not following. And anyway, Damian’s not even _in_ high school yet.”

“Look, I don’t have anything against your kid, usually he’s a decent student. But he’d missed some assignments lately, so I asked him to stay after class for a moment. Next thing I know, he pushed me, hard. And then the other one just appeared and stabs me in the hand with a pencil while Tim was still hitting me,” Mr. Ward explains, sounding far calmer than before.

“So what happened to his head?”

“Mr. Ward was compelled to defend himself, of course.” The Headmaster interrupts diplomatically. “Unfortunately, in his efforts to prevent any further injuries, young Damian fell against the edge of the desk. There was no concussion, but he does have a rather large bump on his head.”

Bruce blinks slowly, absorbing the information. Of course, the first thing that comes to him is that at least Damian hadn’t permanently hurt the teacher. And then he’s trying to think of a reason _why_ the younger boy felt the need to attack anyone. Of course, he’s also wondering exactly _what_ Tim did—the boy doesn’t always get along with instructors and might have just antagonized the man enough to make him exaggerate—since he’s not usually the type to go for physical aggression (other types of revenge, on the other hand, are always a concern).

Finally, he decides to go with “What do you want me to do about this?”

“Well, of course there will be a suspension period while we determine the appropriate consequences,” says Headmaster Hammer. “However, because a student was also injured during the altercation, we will likely choose not to expel either boy at this time. I do expect _you_ to ensure that your children are disciplined and come back to school with a far more civilized attitude than previously exhibited. And, in order to avoid bad publicity for the school, we do request that you and Mr. Ward both keep this incident solely between us.”

“I’m not pressing charges, by the way,” Mr. Ward adds. “Children do make poor choices from time to time. But I’d hope that you would seriously consider getting them both some help. They clearly have underlying issues.”

Biting his tongue, Bruce nods mutely. After a moment, he feels in control enough to speak. “Of course I’ll be dealing with it. And I am so, _so_ sorry for all this, Mr. Ward. I’m more than willing to pay for any medical expenses, if you want. Headmaster, is it alright if I take the boys home now? Not that I don’t trust the school nurse, but I’d like to have our family doctor take a look at Damian.”

The Headmaster agrees reluctantly and the teacher says he’ll get the bills faxed to Wayne Enterprises and then Bruce is (finally) out of the room. Both of his sons are in the exact same positions he’d left them, although it’s obvious that they’re ready to be defensive. Bruce sighs quietly because, really, these two are the most difficult of his children when it comes to confrontation. And true to form, Tim has the expression that means he’ll say exactly whatever it is he thinks Bruce wants to hear and then deal with the consequences and any leftover problems in his own (usually not healthy) way, while Damian is ready to fight his father over the whole thing instead of even _pretending_ to be sorry (even if he is).

“Come on,” the man says, gesturing for the two to follow. “Let’s go.”

They don’t say anything during the walk back to the car or on the drive or through the visit to visit Dr. Thompson (Bruce wants documentation), or during the entire drive back to the Manor. Knowing that both of them are very likely to disappear and avoid him once inside, Bruce orders them both to head into the sitting room. He’s hoping that the less formal setting may help all of them relax just a little. It doesn't work, and there’s an impressive amount of reluctance and wariness in the boys’ body language, Bruce notes as he takes a seat opposite his sons. Tim’s opted for half-sitting, half-leaning on the arm of the couch, while Damian is sitting properly and very stiffly on it.

“Okay,” Bruce sighs. “Who wants to go first?”

Neither boy volunteers, which he’d expected.

“Damian, why don’t you go first please.” He’s hoping that the boy’s typically dramatic and rather self-righteous retelling will goad Tim into correcting his brother “for accuracy’s sake”.

The younger boy shifts very slightly before speaking in what he probably thinks is a neutral tone (it’s very much not). “The man deserved it, Father, although perhaps I should not have used a pencil—I could have simply broken his hand instead.”

“ _Why_ did he deserve being stabbed in the hand, Damian?”

“ _Tt,_ because,” Damian crosses his arms. “he wouldn’t release Drake’s arm and the idiot wasn’t going to take care of the problem himself.”

“Hey!” Tim scowls. “At least I wasn’t gonna _stab_ him!”

Bruce interrupts the bickering between the two quickly. “Okay, hang on! I’m sorry, but, um, why, exactly, was he holding onto your arm, Tim?”

“’Cuz he’s an ass?” Seeing the look Bruce is giving him, the teen sighs and rolls his eyes. “Seriously, nothing happened, Dad. He just grabbed my arm because he thought I was gonna leave the room before he was finished talking ‘nd Damian overreacted.”

Bruce doesn’t miss the “Dad” part, which he’s pretty sure is more to do with Tim trying to play him emotionally than anything (although Dick’s always argued that it’s a sign that the kid is shaken). Before he can say anything though, Damian is protesting this version of events.

“Oh please, you were actively trying to get free. And he was ready to strike you. My reaction was entirely appropriate!”

“I had it handled!”

“You were not goin—”

“Enough, you two!” Bruce practically has to shout to be heard. Both boys stop and look sheepishly at him. “Damian, stop berating your brother for at least the rest of this conversation, _please._ Tim, are you okay?”

The boy shrugs. “Sure. I mean, ‘s not like he’s got super-strength or anyth—”

“Let me see.” It’s occurring to him that this particular child tends to under-exaggerate all injuries—one time he’d argued that he was still good to go while being literally half-dead.

Tim groans like this is the most unreasonable request he’s ever heard, but he obliges and rolls up one sleeve and holds his arm out for his father to see. There’s some faint bruising on his arm, which Bruce can easily tell came from someone grabbing the boy and definitely not from being careless.

“And you didn’t feel this was worth bringing up,” Bruce asks in exasperation.

“Huh,” Tim looks at his arm with a vaguely bemused expression. “Honestly, it looks worse than it was. I mean, I didn’t even notice.”

Bruce barely refrains from trying to shake some sense into his son.

“See? I was justified,” Damian almost gloats. “He deserved it.”

“Don’t start,” Bruce mutters, releasing the older boy’s arm. “Okay, so how exactly did he end up with a bruised face?”

“He shoved Damian into the desk. So I punched him.” Tim shrugs.

“Okay…Damian, why were you even there?”

“You said that Drake and I have to eat lunch together, remember? Well, he was running late and I thought it prudent to check to make sure he had not done something stupid.”

He vaguely recalls that particular demand, which had been made after Damian had threatened a classmate with his lunch tray. Right now, he’s grateful that the boys have actually respected it, if nothing else than because he’s not sure how the situation would have ended without Damian’s intervention. He’s also seething, of course. _How dare the teacher lay a hand on his kids and then lie about it!_

“Did either of you tell Headmaster Hammer about this?” Bruce queries, wondering how far the cover up goes.

“Uh-uh,” Tim shakes his head. “The teacher on hall duty heard us and came in. All he saw was me punching the jerk, so he thought we attacked him. And then _Ward_ said so too. So…yeah. It’s not like anyone was gonna listen to us anyway. I mean, it’s basically the word of two respected teachers against a pair of juvenile delinquents.”

Damian nods in agreement. “The Headmaster was more than willing to take their word for it. He is not overly fond of either of us, Father.”

“Okay,” Sighing, Bruce runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a camera set up in the room, right, Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll get a copy of it—there’s no way to deny footage. In the meantime, both of you can go get cleaned up. Tim, either have Damian or Alfred get some pictures of those bruises.”

Both boys hop up, clearly pleased to be released. As they head towards the door, Bruce suddenly remembers something.

“Hey!” He waits for them to turn around. “Good job looking out for each other. I _am_ proud of you.”

Tim gives him a look like he’s convinced that the man has lost it, and Damian looks a little confused. Finally, the older one mumbles “thanks”, and takes off. His brother stays in the doorway and scrutinizes Bruce.

“What, exactly, were you proud of?”

“Well,” Bruce says, getting up himself. “Aside from both of you defending each other, I’m incredibly grateful that you didn’t _actually_ hurt him too much. I know that was hard for you.”

Damian shrugs. “ _Tt,_ the only reason I had to use a pencil was because Drake confiscated my weapons this morning.”

“Well…thank you for that. And remind me to ask Tim where he’s stashing these things, okay? He doesn’t get to have weapons at school either, you know.”

The boy smirks and declares “I shall go inform him of this” before rushing off. Already feeling the headache he’s going to get from that little interaction, Bruce heads downstairs to the computer. Of course, there’s no harm in looking up the man’s personal address while he’s busy. And perhaps Batman will pay him a special visit tonight, just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda wrote this one because I had to deal with a professor like that last year. He got pissed because he thought I wasn't paying attention, so he grabbed me by the arm and drug me across the room to where it was less crowded. Not a single person in class said anything. I got pissed and reported it, but the school didn't do anything beyond making him say "sorry" to me because I didn't have proof. He's still teaching here and I had to finish class with him. Now, I am an adult, but we all know it happens in American schools all the time, regardless of age. Also, Idk if Damian would technically still be in middle school at 13, but since I know 13 year olds in middle school, I'm just assuming he would. And like a lot of places, Gotham Academy has multiple grades in the same campus.  
> I know someone's gonna want a sequel or wish that I'd had Bruce confront Mr. Ward, but I wanted an open ending. We all know that some teachers get away with a lot of shit and that it's not likely he'd face serious consequences. Of course, he might be forced to resign because of Bruce's position of power, but there's little chance it'd go any further. I wanted it to be ambiguous, so ya'll can just make up your own version of what happens next!


End file.
